Breakable
by vega2
Summary: If Kitt follows Michael's last orders he could lose him, if he doesn't, an innocent child could be lost forever.


Knight Rider characters copyright Glen A. Larson

A big thank you to Tomy, my beta reader 

Breakable copyright L. Borchers 2002

Breakable

By Vega

"Michael, I'm not sure if this is such a good idea."

"It's the only way, Kitt."  Michael looked down at the main house, one of three sprawling buildings built on a cement pad etched out of the side of the mountain. Parked on a hill above the private estate for the past two hours, they had reached the site by traveling over terrain that was meant only for billy goats and jack rabbits.  Bonnie's specially designed tires and suspension withstood the rigors of the terrain, Michael, on the other hand, was not so sure if his body had. He would be sore for weeks.

"Michael, I am scanning one car entering the estate."

"How long, Kitt?"

"Given their present speed, and the winding road, six minutes."

Michael laid his head back against the seatback, taking deep breaths, willing himself to remain calm.  Six minutes was a long time. He checked the time on his comlink/watch, 9:16.  If everything went as planned, this would all be over by noon.

 Intelligence had confirmed that the girl was inside waiting to be transported to another of Terrell's safe houses. If he succeeded he would go so far underground that no one would ever see her again.  It was decided a surprise attack by Michael and Kitt would be more effective than an all out assault by a Swat team. If cornered, Terrell would feel no compunction in killing his own daughter.  It was all part of the game. 

It seemed an eternity before a black Mercedes finally rounded the last turn and pulled to a stop next to an identical Mercedes that had been sitting there all morning.  Terrell's most likely.

"Terrell is no slouch when it comes to money, Michael," Kitt observed, "this car is also bullet proof.  Even the tires are Kevlar coated."

"Doesn't surprise me.  The man has lots of enemies."

Michael looked down at Kitt's left monitor.  Things had remained status quo since they arrived. Six yellow blips on the screen represented Terrell and his five henchmen, and one lone blip down a long hallway in a small room represented Marty Terrell.

"I counted six men, Michael. Now you can add two to the count.  I'm afraid you are sorely outnumbered."  While he felt distress over the girl's situation, he could not dismiss the danger that Michael faced.  His prime directive, above all, was to protect Michael Knight.

Michael was still not sure how he had gotten involved in this. He glanced down at the photo that sat on the passenger seat of a little girl, her mass of curly brown hair flowing over her tiny shoulders. She looked into the camera with a slightly crooked smile. Marty Terrell had been abducted from her home by her estranged father two weeks ago. Frantic with fear, her mother had contacted the Foundation.  She told Devon about her ex-husband, Martin Terrell.  How his money came from drugs and arms. How he had established several safe houses, among them this stronghold in this small LA community nestled in the San Gabriel Hills. When she found out who he truly was she ran. The divorce was difficult and she was not surprised when he finally made good on his threat to take his daughter back.

Martin Terrell had a reputation for being a vicious man; climbing to the top over the bodies of his competitors.  His house was known to harbor drug runners, arms dealers, guns for hire. He lived a fast, expensive life, taking what he wanted, when he wanted it. The one thing but didn't have, was his daughter.  Not because he loved her, but because she was his and he needed to possess everything. 

"Michael, I believe they are getting ready to move."  Kitt said.  On the monitor two yellow dots headed down the hallway toward the room where the girl was held.

"Alright, listen, Kitt, no matter what happens you have to get that little girl to safety."

"I understand."

"No you don't. That little girl comes first.  If anything goes wrong, you get her out of there fast.  No matter what.  No looking back. I can take care of myself."

"Michael…you can't ask me to do that."

 "I'm not asking, Kitt.  I'm ordering. Don't take her to the Foundation.  We don't know what kind of ties Terrell has. Keep out of sight until you know you are completely in the clear, then contact Devon.  Do you understand? "

"Yes, but Michael…

"If Terrell keeps her....The stakes are too high on this one, Pal.  We can't lose."

"Alright, Michael, I understand. I may not like it, but I will abide by your wishes."

"Good." Michael nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.  "I guess it's time to rock and roll. I'm going to get into position.  As soon as she is clear of the house I'll grab her. You make sure you're ready.  If we're lucky they won't know what hit them."

"And if we're not?"

Michael gently tapped the gull wing steering wheel, "Let's not go there, Kitt. Let's not go there.  Keep your scanners peeled; this should all be over in a few minutes. "

Michael silently opened the door and slid out onto his knees rushing down the steep hill covered by tall dry grass and thistles toward the house. There was no cover between the end of the hill where the mountain had been leveled for construction and the house with its large driveway began. He prayed no one was watching as he crouched as low as he could and ran across the open.  He heard no yells or gunfire. Everyone must have been getting ready to take the girl.

"Ok, Kitt, I 'm in position," he reported, crouched behind a cord of firewood stacked against the wall.

"They are almost to the door.  I'm afraid I can't tell who is who anymore; they are all just yellow blips on my screen.  Get ready, Michael.  They are just about to open the door."

Michael heard the door lock click and two men stepped out on the porch, both tall and barrel chested. They wore black suits and wrap around sunglasses, he could see the bulge of their guns beneath their coats: hired thugs.   He waited.  Two more men stepped out, carbon copies of the first two, heading for the two cars.  When Martin Terrell stepped out Michael was shocked to see him carrying the child slung over his shoulder, her hands and feet bound with rope and a cloth gag covering her mouth.  He had to fight back his instinct to charge that very instant. How could a father do that to his own daughter?

"Now!" Michael hissed into the comlink, darting out from behind the cord of wood and barreling into Terrell knocking him off balance, grabbing the girl as she slipped off his shoulder.  

The sound of Kitt's turbine engine caught everyone's attention as the black Tans Am raced down the steep hill at full speed skidding to a stop in front of Michael, the doors flying open automatically.

Stunned for a moment, it gave Michael time to drop Marty into the passenger seat and Kitt slammed the door shut. Terrell's men opened fire on Kitt, ducking when the bullets ricocheted back at them. 

"Forget the car, damn it!" Terrell screamed. "Get the girl!"

Terrell's men began to surround Kitt.  He rocked back and forth, his tires squealing, creating a cloud of smoke and dust to give Michael cover to get to the driver's door. Michael hopped onto the T-Top sliding across the glass roof.  He landed with one foot inside the car. He saw Marty crunched in a tiny ball, her eyes wide with terror. Kitt started rolling forward.  He grabbed the steering wheel and swung the rest of his body into the car but a hand caught his belt and he was yanked backwards, ripping his grip free, and landed hard on his back.

"Michael!"  Kitt cried.

He was instantly surrounded by Terrell's men.  Kitt had to slam the door closed to keep Terrell from reaching in and grabbing Marty.

"Go!" Michael screamed, as Terrell's men began punching and kicking him. He tried to defend himself but he was outnumbered.  He heard the sound of Kitt's tires squealing again as the car pulled away. What must have been going through Kitt's mind?  He knew he had just asked Kitt to do the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Leave him behind.  He heard the other car pull away, chasing Kitt. Kitt would keep Marty safe, of that he was sure.

He was pummeled into near unconsciousness before Terrell pushed himself through the pack, "You just made the worst mistake of your life," he vowed. "Tell me where they took my daughter, or you're a dead man."

"Got to hell." Michael gasped, holding onto the last vestiges of consciousness.

Terrell grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him up until his face was only inches from Terrell's "I've reserved that spot for you." He promised.

Another fist struck him in the left temple and he felt himself being roughly lifted and shoved into the back seat of the car before he lost complete consciousness.

Kitt kept a steady seventy miles an hour on a course that took him away from the Foundation.  He felt lonely, and lost and totally inadequate to help the little girl that cowered in his seat. Her world as broken as his.  He could not get the image of Michael disappearing beneath the swarm of Terrell's men out of his mind.  He would never be able to forgive himself, even if it was a direct order.  But despite his worry for his partner, his first concern had to be the child.  Michael had made him promise.

He scanned the little girl huddled in his passenger seat. With her hands and feet bound and the gag covering her mouth he felt an overwhelming sympathy he had never felt before. How could anyone mistreat a child like this? He suddenly realized why Michael had given him the order to save her at all cost. 

But in reality, he had no idea how to approach a child, especially one who was so traumatized. He checked her vitals, she appeared to be uninjured.  But emotionally she was as fragile as a feather.  

"Marty…?" he asked tentatively.

She looked up, her face and eyes swollen from crying.

"Marty, don't be afraid." He said gently. "I'm a friend.  I won't hurt you."

She stared at the empty driver's seat.

"My name is Kitt.  Your mother sent Michael and I to help you."

She looked around the car, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"Perhaps I should introduce myself.  I am The Knight Industries Two Thousand.  My friends call me Kitt for short. I am an advanced computer system capable of…" Oh my, this was going to be much harder than he thought: The only thing this child knew about computers was Nintendo.

She squirmed around in her seat to get a better look at his dash.  She seemed fascinated by the myriad of lights and switches on his dash and overhead panel.

"I believe if you rub your face against the door you may be able to dislodge the gag." He suggested.

Deciding to trust him, she carefully dragged her face along the leather side panel feeling the gag move.  After several attempts the gag slid off her mouth and dropped down loosely around her neck.

"Who are you?" she mumbled, fascinated by everything around her despite her fear.

"I told you, my name is Kitt."

"Where are you?" she began to look around, curiosity getting the better of her.

"I am everywhere. I am a computer.  I am part of the car.  My friend Michael and I came to take you back to your mother."

Marty sat up, noticing the voice box mounted in the dash corresponding to his voice.

"You know my mommy?"

"Not personally, but my friends do, and they promised her that we would take good care of you. It will take us time to reach her but I promise you will see her soon."

The answer seemed to satisfy her for the moment and she relaxed back against the seat.

"Now we have to figure of way of getting you out of those ropes."

Marty smiled, just a little.  She was starting to come out of her little cocoon of fear. She had needed to hear a friendly voice, to feel safe again. Kitt was offering her the comfort she needed.

"Perhaps if you moved your hands about?" He suggested.

"He tied them too tight."

How could a father treat his child this way?  How could any adult treat a child so?  Kitt suddenly realized he had never felt so much hatred toward a human being before. Not only was Terrell responsible for the trauma to this child, he was also responsible for Michael's abduction. If the man were standing in front of him at this very moment he wasn't sure what he would do. Prime directive or not.

"I understand that children are very limber.  Perhaps you could…" Kitt had to search for the words, he had little experience talking to children, "wriggle your arms beneath your bottom and then squeeze your legs free."

That brought a smile to Marty's face.  "You talk funny." She laughed.

"I beg your pardon?" Kitt asked in his most haughty voice.

She continued to giggle as she worked her arms beneath her bottom and in minutes her hands were in front of her.

"Excellent, Marty.  Now see if you can untie the ropes with your teeth."

Marty went to work on the ropes.  Five minutes later her hands were free and she started on her ankles.

"A regular Houdini," he applauded her with his synthesizer.

"Who's Houdini?" she asked, drawing her legs beneath her in a comfortable position.

"Never mind," he laughed.  He would have to remember her age and lack of knowledge.  But, he cautioned himself, she was much smarter than her years.  He would have to keep his guard up.  "It will be dark soon," he said, "perhaps you should try to get some rest."

"I'm hungry and I have to go to the bathroom."

"Oh dear…"  Kitt sighed, so far out of his league.  "You can't, as they say, hold it?"

She shook her head emphatically.  

"Very well, I'll find a gas station.  But you have to promise me you will not talk to any strangers.  Anyone out there could be hiding, waiting to take you back."

"I won't, I promise."  

Kitt did as he promised and found a gas station in a well lit area.  He watched her carefully as she walked into the station and asked for the key.  The attendant looked out the window and Kitt flashed his headlights twice. The attendant shook his head sadly and handed Marty the bathroom key.  Some parents were too lazy to even take their kids to the bathroom.

Once back in the car safe and sound Kitt found a small outdoor deli and produced a twenty dollar bill for Marty.  "You order what you want.  If anyone asks you any questions just tell them that…"

"Don't worry," she grinned snagging the money from the dashboard, ""I've ordered food plenty of times for me and Mom.  You want anything?"

The question took Kitt by surprise.  After everything the child had been through she still thought of him.  "Thank you," he answered, hoping his voice did not reveal the emotions that were welling up within his CPU, "I don't eat food.  But, thank you for asking."

"No problem."  She hopped out of the car and he watched her grab a chair and slid it up to the takeout window so she could order.  Somehow he knew he would never be quite the same from this point forward.  Marty had touched his heart. 

Marty finished the last of her sandwich and soda and sat back watching the terrain flash by. "Do you ever get really scared?" she asked out of the blue.  "I mean really really scared, so scared your stomach hurts?"

"Yes. On occasion. But since I don't have a stomach, I can't say that my stomach hurts.  But I do feel it in my circuits.  Were you that scared, Marty?"

She nodded.  "At the house with my father and all those men. But I didn't cry."

"It's all right to cry, Marty."

"You think so?"

"I know so.  I have even seen Michael cry a time or two."

"Have you ever cried, Kitt?"

Kitt thought about it.  While there were no tears involved, there were times when he had cried. "Once or twice, he admitted.  "But that is our secret.  No one else can ever know."

"I pinky swear."

"Pinky swear?"

"Boy, you really don't know anything do you? A pinky swear is the best swear you can make.  No one ever breaks a pinky swear."  By demonstration she entwined her two little fingers together.  "You pinky swear, it's for life."

With a full stomach and an exhausting day behind her, Kitt put the seat back to a sleeping position and Marty drifted off to sleep, seemingly completely trusting in Kitt's care.  As he drove along the freeway, still heading away from the Foundation he wondered where Michael was.  He wondered if he would ever see him again.  The memory of leaving him behind was more than his circuits could handle and he forced himself to put the images aside.  He had to take care of Marty first. He had no idea, until now how precious a child was.  Now he understood why Michael would put his life on the line for her. What ever happened to Michael he did it so the child would be safe.  With a resolve stronger than he had ever felt, he promised Michael that he would protect her with his life.

Devon drummed his fingertips on the desk, looking over at Bonnie occasionally, waiting for her to tell him that she had regained contact with Kitt.  It had been twenty four hours since they had lost communications with Kitt.  Just after reporting that Michael was in place and they were about to rescue the child all communications went dead.  Devon waited several hours before sending in a crew to check the area out.  If Michael was in the midsts of a rescue he didn't want to jeopardize his efforts.  But what they found was nothing.  The house had been cleared of everything, but the heavy furniture.  There was no sign of the child, or Michael anywhere.  What worried him most was the fact that Kitt was out of touch also. That could only mean that Michael was in dire trouble.

"I don't understand."  Bonnie said, frustrated. "Kitt would have had to deliberately cut off communications…or…"

"We will just have to remain patient.  Have you spoken to Mrs. Terrell this morning?"

Bonnie shook her head.  It was hard facing the grieving mother.  She could only give her prattle about everything being Ok, that Marty was in safe hands.  They didn't know where Marty was.  Hell, they didn't know where anyone was.

"I'll speak to her later."

"Very well."  Devon returned to a stack of paperwork on his desk, knowing that he was simply going through the basics.  His mind was somewhere else.

Michael awoke to find himself tied to a cot in the center of what looked like a makeshift cell.  Sheets of plywood had been nailed in place over the windows and the only door was stripped of any inside hardware.  The only way the door could be opened was from the outside.  He waited, wondering when Terrell or one of his henchmen would return.  They hadn't taken his watch but the face was smashed.  He wondered if the comlink itself was still working.  

He remembered Kitt speeding away as he was being pummeled by Terrell's men.  He was sure Kitt had the girl in a safe place.  As soon as he was sure he wasn't followed, Kitt would be in touch with Devon and she would be reunited with her mother.  He wished he could have been there to see it.

He began to experiment with his bonds. Even the littlest of movements brought pain to his side.  They had broken a couple of ribs.  The bonds were loose enough not to stop the circulation but too tight for him to free his hands.  He wondered how long it would be before Kitt would start looking for him. Or even if he could find him…

The door opened and Terrell stood in the doorway, two black suited henchmen behind him.

"If you talk now," Terrell said, striding across the room, "you could save us all a lot of time and yourself a lot of pain."

"About what?"  Michael looked up at him belligerently, "About how nice the weather's been lately?"

Terrell slapped him viciously across the cheek.  "Where is she?" he demanded.

"Safe from scum like you."

He received another vicious slap for his insolence that split his lip open. He felt blood trickle down his chin. 

Terrell leaned down close to his face. "This is your last chance." He warned. "If you don't tell me, I have someone who will make you."

"Go to hell."  Michael hissed.  He clenched his teeth awaiting the next blow.  Terrell caught him on the jaw and everything went black.

Michael fought the instinct to struggle. It was a useless waste of what little energy he had left.  When he had awoken again, how long ago he had no idea, it felt like days now, he found his wrists were shackled behind him to the back of a steel chair that was bolted to the floor.  His ankles were likewise locked in place. They had removed his jacket and shirt as well as his shoes and socks.

A light fixture hung just a few feet above his head casting a six foot circle of light around him.  Everything beyond that was pitch black. He was never allowed to sleep.  Each time he nodded off he was jolted awake by a 75,000 milliamp Stun Gun that left him paralyzed for several minutes. Then the beatings began.  Two men, dressed in black jumpsuits wearing bizarre Mardi Gras masks darted in and out of the darkness, landing stunning blows to his stomach, his sides, his thighs, everywhere but his face. Everything became so surreal that at times he doubted his own sanity.

"Where is she?!"  It was the same question they asked every hour, hour after hour, day and night.  

"Go to Hell." He snarled, bracing himself for the next blow.  Instead he felt something prick the inside of his right arm.  If they were trying to use drugs it was useless.  He couldn't tell them what he didn't know.

"You know, Mr. Knight, this a waste of your time and mine." A new figure stepped into the halo of light.  Tall and thin, he stood ramrod straight. His gray hair cut in military style, his brown trousers ironed with razor sharp creases. A perfectly pressed light blue shirt and black tie spoke of years of military training. "But I have to admire you.  Your dogged determination, your steadfast belief that the girl is worth dying for." He leaned down until his face was only inches away from Michael's. "But do you really think your death will be any less unpleasant because you are championing a cause?"

"You're wasting your time.  I don't know where she is."  Michael flinched when he felt another needle prick the inside of his left arm.  

"You may be wondering what's next.  You may even be wondering who I am.  I simply go by the name of Dawson.  I am the very best in my field.  I charge a lot, but…" he grabbed a handful of Michael's hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to look into his eyes, "I always get results."

Michael remained silent, preparing himself for what came next, what ever it was.

Dawson grinned, but his eyes were cold as steel.  "You will change your mind, in time.  They always do."  He stood up, taking a deep breath, "You will tell me, in the end." He said backing out of the light. "Prepare him."

Michael watched an IV stand with infusion pump rolled into the center of the light. He felt hands adjusting and taping needles in place on his arms. A glass container the size and shape of a bucket with a gradient scale was shoved into the circle of light with a length of IV tubing clamped into place just over the inside lip.  He swallowed hard. He didn't have a clue what Dawson had in mind, but what ever it was it was not going to be pleasant. 

Kitt drove through the night for a second night in a row.  He had been ready to contact Devon when he caught the tiniest of glitches on his communications array.  If it were remotely possible for Terrell to home in on his signal he could not take the chance.

Marty was becoming restless.  He kept her as entertained as best he could.  They had read together, played counting games.  All the time part of his thoughts were on Michael.  The horror of not knowing, if he was alive or dead, weighed heavy on him, adding to his tremendous guilt.

"What's wrong, Kitt?" Marty reached out and touched the voice box, for her the heart of Kitt.  "You seem sad again.  Do you miss your friend like I miss my mother?"

"Very much so.  But I don't want you worrying about me."

"You worry about people when you love them.  Even when they're a computer."

Kitt found it hard to answer.  Only Michael and Bonnie knew the true depth of his feelings and yet this little girl openly accepted him, no questions asked.

"Kitt…are you all right?"

"Yes, Marty, I'm fine. I just thought it might be the right time to try to reach the Foundation and talk to your mother."

Marty grinned, "I can't wait to tell her about you."

"I'm afraid a long conversation will have to wait.  First we are only going to tell them that we are safe and are on our way home."

"Is that going to be soon then?"

"As soon as it is safe." Kitt promised.

Devon nearly knocked over his chair as he stood up, surprised by the screech of surprise from Bonnie.

"It's Kitt!" she cried.  "He's all right.  He has Marty with him.  He is making his way toward us, slowly, to keep Terrell off track."

"Splendid."  Devon smiled, "And Michael?  Is Michael with them?"

Bonnie looked up at Devon, her smile fading, disbelief in her voice. "Terrell has Michael."

Devon took a step back, shocked.

"Transmission has ended.  He will call again when he can."

Devon took a deep breath; the implications of Terrell having Michael were staggering.  Terrell was known for his vicious treatment of his enemies.  He would do anything and everything to force Michael to reveal Marty's location.

He laid a gentle hand on Bonnie's shoulder, "Please tell Mrs. Terrell that Marty is safe and on her way back to us."

Bonnie nodded, squeezing his hand gently.  Words were not necessary, the pain on Devon's face spoke for itself.

"Have you ever been bitten by a mosquito, Mr. Knight?" Dawson asked, standing on the perimeter of the light, only his face visible.  "They are really remarkable creatures.  Their saliva contains anticoagulants.  It allows the blood to run free until their bellies are full. Same thing happens when a Vampire Bat bites its victim."  He stepped into the light making a show of adjusting the flow valve on the IV infuser. Clear liquid began dripping into the tubing, one drop every ten seconds. "Soon your blood will be mixed with the anticoagulant."  He walked over to the glass container. "The human body contains approximately fourteen to eighteen pints of blood. You are a big man Mr. Knight, you probably fall into the eighteen pint category."

Michael twitched in his seat when he felt the cold liquid reach the tubing taped to his right arm and entered his vein.  

"You still have time, you know."  Dawson stepped back out of the light leaving Michael alone in the circle of light.  "You just have to tell me where the girl is," he said from the darkness, "and you are a free man."

"Yea," Michael snorted, "I tell you where she is and a second later I'm dead."

"A decision you may readily accept before this is over."

One of the men wearing the black jumpsuit and bizarre Mardi Gras mask ran out of the darkness and disappeared behind him.  He felt him adjust the needle in his left arm and he was gone.

"We will leave you for now, Mr. Knight," Dawson called from the darkness.  "Let us know when you're ready to talk."

Michael felt something warm travel down the tubing along his arm and he watched in fascination as a thin line of bright red blood began slowly moving through the tubing toward the container.  A shudder of fear ran down his spine.  Dawson was going to make him watch himself bleed to death.

Kitt could not stand it another minute.  He had to begin searching for Michael.  With each hour that passed he knew the chances of finding him alive diminished.  He felt confident that Terrell had no idea where he was and the safe house Devon had provided was easily defended if somehow Terrell did find them.

Marty was excited, fidgeting in her seat knowing that she was going to see her mother in just a few minutes.  Kitt pulled off the main thoroughfare and down a series of cross streets that led to a small community of houses.  He pulled into the driveway of 103 Mayfield Way and a petite woman came running out of the front door.  She was the spitting image of Marty with her mass of long brown curly hair and slightly crooked smile.

Marty screamed with glee as she caught sight of her mother.  Kitt pulled to a complete stop before he opened the passenger door and the little girl leapt out into the arms of her mother.  

Devon and Bonnie followed close behind.

"It is best you get in the house out of sight."  Devon ordered.  Bonnie escorted Mrs. Terrell back into the house.  Marty clung to her mother, lost in the moment.

Devon leaned into the driver's seat of the Trans Am, not quite sure how to approach Kitt.

"Have you heard anything?" Kitt asked.

"I'm afraid not. We checked out the Terrell Estate, but I'm sure you will want to check it out yourself."

"Yes, right away." Kitt agreed.

"Bonnie and I will join you."

"Thank you, Devon.  Devon…make sure they take good care of Marty, I have grown very fond of her."

Devon didn't know quite what to say.  He had assumed it would be a frustrating journey for Kitt with a ten year old girl.  Kitt never ceased to amaze him.

Devon retuned to the house and found mother and daughter still wrapped in each others arms.  "I'm afraid Bonnie and I must go now." He said.  "You will be safe here."

Mrs. Terrell grabbed his arm, "I can't thank you enough, Mr. Miles."

"It's Michael you should be thanking."

"Then I hope I will be thanking him in person very soon."

Marty suddenly struggled out of her mother's arms, "I've got to say goodbye to Kitt!" she shouted and ran out the door before they could stop her. 

"Kitt!" she screamed as she ran up to the car.  Kitt opened the driver's door and she hoped in.  Mrs. Terrell and Bonnie were on her heels.  "Kitt, you can't go without saying goodbye."

"I wouldn't think of it, Marty.  You take good care of yourself and your mother."

"I will."  She nodded, wiping away the first tear she had shed since they met. "Will you come back and see me again?"

"Of course I will.  We are best friends, right?"

Mrs. Terrell looked on, completely confused.  Bonnie smiled in amazement.  The last thing she thought she would ever see was Kitt bonding with a child.

"Right." Marty crawled across to the passenger seat and leaned forward giving Kitt's voice box a little kiss.  "I love you, Kitt."

"And I love you, too," he whispered.

"You'll be back soon?"

"Very soon?"

"You swear?"

"Pinky swear." Kitt promised.

Kitt pulled up to the Terrell Estate, replaying the tape of Marty's rescue.  Bonnie cringed at the sight of Michael falling beneath the barrage of fists.

"I left him." Kitt said, self loathing in his voice.

"You did the only thing you could do, Kitt."  Devon tried to console him, but Kitt was too entrenched in guilt and worry.  He had done the unthinkable, he had left his partner to face Terrell's men alone, knowing the consequences.  "If you had stayed you would have put Marty in further danger.  Your duty was to protect her first.  Michael understood that.  And so must you."

"I understand the rational.  I know I did the right thing.  But it doesn't make me feel any better."

"Of course it doesn't, Kitt.  Not for any of us.  But now we must put all our efforts into finding Michael."

"Thank you."

"For what?"  Devon looked at the voice box, confused.

"For understanding."

"Kitt, we all love Michael."

Kitt took a virtual deep breath and began slowly moving up and down the driveway, his sensors looking for anything the two cars or the men left behind.  Bonnie and Devon slipped out of the car and walked into the house.  Just as they were told by the local police everything but the heavy furniture was removed. Bonnie drew a wand from her purse and began slowly moving it over the couches and chairs looking for anything left behind.  At the end of a long search the only thing she found was a couple of empty match books, some small change and a bottle cap labeled  L'eau Claire de motagne.

"L'eau Clair de motagne," Devon lifted the bottle cap from her palm, "It translates to Clear Mountain Water, a very expensive water from France. It is not available here in the states.  It must be shipped directly from France.  It appears Mr. Terrell's expensive tastes know no boundaries."

"That means there would be a mailing address on record."

"Precisely.  If we are lucky he not only had it shipped here but to his other residences throughout the country as well."

"I'll get Kitt on it right away."  She looked up at Devon, imploring him to give her an honest answer.  "Do you think he's still alive?"

"I wish I knew, my dear.  I wish I knew.  For now, we can only hope and do what we can to find him."

The answer was all she could hope for at the moment.  She headed out the door to find Kitt. To think that Michael's life depended on a bottle of water.

Michael watched the blood, his blood, drip slowly into the glass container.  Each drop hung at the tip of the tubing then fell as if in slow motion, splashing the bottom with tiny droplets until the bottom was covered with red.  He knew a little about anatomy, enough to know that he would be long dead before the scale read eighteen pints. Six pints and he would be unconscious. 

This was not the way he thought his life would end.  Manacled to a chair, displayed like a trophy on stage for all to watch, as his life slowly dripped from his veins. His only solace: the fact that he had saved a little girl from a life of hell.  He wondered where Kitt was. It was obvious that he had been successful in his escape or he would have been long dead by now.  The only thing that kept him alive was the slimmest hope on Terrell's part that he knew where Marty was.  He didn't. He gave Kitt specific orders that he knew Kitt would follow to the letter. So now, the only thing he could do was wait and hope that Kitt, Devon and Bonnie could find him in time.  He knew it was a long shot.  But hell, he had beaten the odds before. 

"There are seventeen customers that receive shipments of L'eau Claire de motagne." Kitt reported.  "Twelve are restaurants and the other five are individuals.  One in California, one in Nevada, two in New York and the last one in Florida."

"Can you access the accounts, find names and addresses?" Bonnie asked.

"That will take time."

"We have no choice, Kitt.  This may be our only lead."

Time seemed to stand still as Devon and Bonnie waited.  They headed down the hill positioning themselves to catch the freeway in either direction once they had a destination. 

"Three accounts have different names but are billed from the same bank.  One of the addresses is three miles from here."

"That must be him, Kitt.  The other two addresses?"

"One is in Nevada and the other New York."

Bonnie felt the engine engage before she had time to give the order.  "New York is too far.  It must be Nevada. But that still doesn't tell us exactly where he is."

"No," Devon admitted, "but it will hopefully bring us a lot closer.  What kind of range does Michael's comlink have?"

"Given that it is working right, thirty miles."

"Then we find the address and start driving until we pick up his signal."

Bonnie sat back, her heart in her throat.  If Michael's comlink was broken or removed they might never find him. "Kitt, give me an ETA."

"Six hours and twenty two minutes, Bonnie."

Bonnie glanced over at Devon sitting in the passenger seat.  The old man sat motionless, eyes on the road ahead as Kitt merged onto the freeway.  There was nothing left to say, all the platitudes in the world would not make either of them feel better. They both knew that time was running out.  The possibility of finding Michael alive diminished with every hour. She closed her eyes forcing back the tears.  Six hours was a lifetime.

Michael found he couldn't keep his eyes off the tubing as his blood slowly flowed through it.  The gradient scale on the container read eight ounces. One cup. Hell, he gave twice that each time he donated blood. He had to keep this nightmare in perspective.   But he was already feeling the effects with his body compromised by the beatings and lack of sleep. He knew what Dawson was doing. He wanted him to loose it.  Wanted him to count each drop as it splashed into the container, watch the level rise ever so slowly, dwell on the fear of what was going to happen next… 

He forced himself to look away, out into the darkness.  Was anyone there?  Were they watching him?  He wouldn't give them the pleasure of a show if they were.  Exhaustion overcame him and he felt his eyelids close.  

Pain!  He jerked his head up.  The black clad man with the bizarre Mardi Gras mask was standing beside him, Stun Gun in his hand. 

"That was only 400,000 volts at 75,000 milliamps, Mr. Knight.  It has the capacity to reach 650,000 volts.  It's up to you." Came Dawson's voice from the darkness." Tell me where your friend is hiding the girl, then no more Stun Gun.  You can sleep all you want."

He looked around; just like that he was alone again.  The bright overhead light sparkled on the blood in the container. Sixteen ounces.  One pint.  He sucked back the fear.  He would not let Dawson get to him.

Everything seemed deathly quiet except for his own ragged breathing and the drip, drip, drip of his blood as it filled the container. Like a leaky fawcett. The thought made him chuckle.  Someone had better turn it off soon, he thought.

"This is a damn waste of time." Terrell paced the small room just off the arena where Knight was held.  A bank of cameras, recording equipment and monitors that kept track of Knight's heart rate and blood pressure covered most of one wall.  "You shoot him up with Sodium Pentothal and he'll give up everything he knows."

Dawson studied the monitor keeping track of Michael's blood pressure.  It was beginning to fall.  "Yes, everything he knows.  But I want more."  He turned around slowly, coming face to face with Terrell.  Men like Terrell didn't scare him.  They were a dime a dozen.  The men he feared, and respected, were men like the man he had shackled to the chair in the next room.  They would give their life for a cause.  Endure any kind of torture rather than betray their own moral standards.  But he had never met a man that he couldn't eventually break.  Knight was tough, but in the end breakable.  "Knight may not know where his friend took your daughter, but given time he will figure it out.  He knows his friend, he knows his needs and desires.  He'll think about it, wonder about it. In time, Terrell, he will tell us where she is."

"Well, it better be fast.  I'm not a patient man."

Dawson took a threatening step closer to Terrell, "It will take as long as it takes. You hired me, so stay out of my way." 

Terrell backed off.  He would give Dawson a little more time.

It was getting harder to keep his eyes open, to hold his head up, yet every time he nodded off he was shocked awake by the Stun Gun.  

"You can sleep when you tell me where the girl is."  Dawson promised from the darkness.  "Sleep, Mr. Knight. Think of it. You can close your eyes and let all the pain drift away…"  Again the Stun Gun shocked him awake, leaving him unable to move for long minutes.  Dawson was towering over him, mocking him, toying with the Stun Gun, testing it, watching the electrical current arc.

"This can all end now.  Just tell me where the girl is. She means nothing to you.  Do you think she even cares what happens to you?" Dawson leaned down, his face inches from Michael's face. "Is she really worth all this?" He looked toward the container. Michael couldn't help but follow his line of vision. The gradient scale read twenty four ounces.  That was a pint and a half. Had he fallen asleep that often?  Or had Dawson increased the flow?

"She's at home in a warm bed, with her belly full and her thirst quenched. How long has it been since you had a drink of water?"

Michael suddenly felt overwhelmingly thirsty. He tried to swallow but his mouth was so dry he nearly gagged.

"Just one sip of water."  Dawson snapped his fingers.  A hand appeared out of the darkness holding a tall glass of water.  Dawson took it displaying it in front of Michael. 

"This can be yours."  He held it up to the light, the outside beaded with condensation.  Michael licked his lips, he could almost feel the cool water run down his throat.  "All yours, Mr. Knight, as much as you want.  Just tell me where the girl is." Dawson drank the water, slowly.  "The next glass can be yours." He promised.

Michael looked away.  Dawson grabbed a hand full of hair and yanked his head back. "You're all alone, Mr. Knight. No one is coming to rescue you."  A chair on coasters rolled out of the darkness.  Dawson caught it and spun it around, straddling it backwards.  "You've been abandoned." He hissed in Michael's ear. "Even your partner abandoned you.  He left you behind, knowing Terrell's reputation."

No.  Michael knew the truth.  Kitt was following orders.  After he was sure Marty was safe he would contact Devon and Bonnie.

"They left you behind." Dawson persisted, "You are expendable."

"No…" Michael muttered.  He fought to keep it together.

"Your partner abandoned you.  He drove off, leaving you behind."

"No…"  He knew Kitt.  Kitt wouldn't do that.  He followed orders. His orders.

"Where is he now?"

Michael tried to look away but Dawson yanked his head back again.  

"Where is he?  Why did he leave you?"

He couldn't breath, he couldn't think.  He was ready to pass out.  

"Why did he leave you behind?"

"No…Kitt…"  Michael froze.  Not another word.  He couldn't say another word. He couldn't be that careless again.

"Kitt, drove away and left you behind to face this."

Someone shocked him with the Stun Gun from behind, sending his body into a violent spasm.  

"It can all stop now.  I can make all this go away."

Michael shook his head.  He wouldn't give in. He wouldn't succumb to Dawson's psychological games.  He had to concentrate on other things.  He looked at the IV bottle, slowly dripping the clear liquid into his veins. He could feel the cool tubing as it lay against his left arm. He could feel his blood flow from his right arm, warm to the touch as it traveled through the tube.  He tried not to look but his eyes were drawn to the container centered in the overhead light, sparkling red.  There was so much of it. How much was too much?  At what point would his body simply shut down from lack of blood? Stop.  He had to stop. He was playing right into Dawson's hands.  Kitt was out there somewhere searching for him. He would find him. He knew the truth.  Kitt had followed orders. His orders. Kitt would travel away from the Foundation until he was certain he was safe then contact Devon and Bonnie.  They would meet at a safe house…No!  That was what Dawson wanted.  Bits and pieces to put together.  He knew Kitt as well as he knew himself. They were partners.  He trained him.  He knew what Kitt would do, because that was what he would do. He couldn't let Dawson break through. He deliberately let his head fall forward on his chest.  

The shock from the Stun Gun coursed through his body stronger then before.  Dawson was growing impatient.  He increased the power, increasing the pain, leaving his muscles and nerves short circuited.  A chink in his armor?  Michael had a momentary flash of hope. If Dawson got frustrated would he make a mistake?

"I can keep this up a lot longer than you can, Michael."  Dawson warned.

The simple change in name caught Michael off guard.  

"End it now, Michael. You can't win.  End it now before it gets worse."

Worse?  Michael almost laughed.  How could it get worse?

As if answering Michael's unspoken question, Dawson stepped over to the container and slid it across the floor with his foot until it was touching Michael's bare foot. Michael gasped. It felt warm to the touch. The blood sloshed around inside the container, covering the sides, sparkling in the overhead light. "You've heard the expression; is the glass half empty or half full?  What do you think this is, Michael?" He kicked the bucket and the blood nearly spilled over the rim "Is it half empty or half full? I'd say half full, wouldn't you?" He grabbed Michael's hair forcing him to look down at the bucket.  The smell nearly made him gag.  "How does it feel, Michael? Each drop making you weaker, draining your life away?  Soon you won't be able to fight me.  Soon you'll tell me everything I want to know.  It's inevitable. Why put yourself through this when you know you can't win?"

Michael tried not to watch each drop as it dripped into the bucket.  It was more than half full now.  

"How much more are you willing to give for a stranger?  For your partner who abandoned you?  Are they worth this? Are they worth dying for?"

Dawson pushed him forward, the shackles around his wrists biting into his skin, "Look at it.  That's your blood, your life dripping out of your veins.  Your dying, Michael."

"…No…"

"You're dying, Michael, and no one cares."

"…No…"

"Then why aren't they here?"  Dawson leaned down close to his ear, "It's because no one cares."

Dawson grabbed his chin and squeezed hard.  "You can't win, only prolong your suffering. Terrell hired me because I'm the best.  I've never lost, Michael.  I've never met a man I couldn't break.  It's only a matter of time."

"How much longer, Kitt?"  Bonnie tried to find a more comfortable position to sit.  No matter how she tried she could not relax.  The ideas that swirled through her mind of what might be happening to Michael, if he was still alive, made her shudder.  How could it have gone so wrong?  She glanced over at Devon staring stoically out the window.  They had not said two words the entire trip.  He too, was lost in thought.  How much worse for him since he had sent Michael on the assignment?

"Two hours, ten minutes, Bonnie.  I am scanning for anything that might be a signal from Michael.  So far, nothing."

"You only have a range of thirty miles, Kitt.  When we get closer…"  Would he be able to pick up a signal?  Was there even a signal to pick up?  Bonnie closed her eyes.  God, he had to be alright.

"How much longer?"  Terrell watched the monitor.  Knight had not moved a muscle in ten minutes.

"Soon."  Dawson said.  "His blood pressure is dropping rapidly now."  

"He's strong." Terrell said, "Maybe too strong."

Dawson turned slowly toward Terrell, "No one is that strong.  He's breakable. It just takes time."

Terrell turned back to the screen. If he didn't have the answer he wanted soon he would take over. "What next?"

"More of the same, just stepped up a notch."

A small smile came to Terrell's lips, "You like this, don't you?"

Dawson stared at Michael's image on the monitor. "I like a challenge."

Michael began to shiver.  He no longer had the strength to lift his head.  The gradient scale in the container read sixty four ounces.  He tried to make sense of the figure but he couldn't think. He was becoming more nauseous by the second.  Where was Kitt?   He should have found him by now. His stomach heaved and he lost what little he had in his stomach.  He was going into shock.  He knew the signs.  The smell of the blood in the container filled his nostrils and he was sick again.  He heard someone moaning and realized it was himself.  

Pain!  Dawson was standing next to him again with the Stun Gun.  He couldn't fight back any longer and he cried out in pain.

"You still have a long way to go, Mr. Knight," Dawson said.  "How many hours of this can you stand?  You just have to tell me where the girl is and this will all be over."

It was so tempting.  He felt so wretched.  He wanted it to end.  But he couldn't.  Terrell could never get his hands on Marty again.

"Go to hell…"  Michael whispered weakly.

Dawson slapped him across the face, hard.  If the chair had not been bolted down to the floor he would have tipped over backward.  "You're a fool!" Dawson yelled, "No one gives a damn about you. They left you behind.  Even your partner Kitt, left you behind.  They don't know if you are alive or dead.  And they don't care.  You're nothing to them any more."

"No…"  Michael tried not to listen.  It wasn't the truth.  They were looking for him.

Dawson leaned forward, "They don't care about Michael Knight.  You're just another casualty. They'll find someone else to replace you."

His body felt so heavy he could barely breathe.  He couldn't stop shivering. He was cold and he was tired and he wanted it all to end.  

"Just say the word and it all stops.  There's a warm bed in the next room. Food, water, sleep. All the sleep you want. You can have it, Michael.  Just tell me where Kitt took Marty."

"…Kitt…?"  

"Yes." Dawson knelt down next to him, "Where did Kitt take Marty?"

"I don't know…" he mumbled, incoherent, "…I don't…"

"Yes you do."  His mouth was inches from Michael's ear, "Think.  You know where they are. You tell me and all this goes away."

Michael felt as if he was falling backwards into a bottomless pit.  He couldn't think anymore. Dawson's voice droned in and out. "She's not worth all this pain."  

Dawson hit him again with the Sun Gun. "Tell me and I will stop all this."  

Again the Stun Gun jolted through him.

"Tell me where Kitt has the girl."

"Go to hell…" he breathed.

Dawson grabbed his hair yanking his head up.  "You're a damn fool, Knight."

They passed through the Las Vegas Strip and continued on through the desert.  Small communities seemed to spring up out of nowhere.  Bonnie kept her eyes glued to monitor number one, waiting, hoping to see some sign of Michael. It was becoming harder to retain her optimism.  With only a thirty mile range the odds were against them finding the signal from Michael's homing devise.  She kept her thoughts to herself.

"We are two point six miles from Overton," Kitt reported.  

"We'll start our grid search from there." Devon said, "Let's just pray that Terrell enjoys his water enough to stay close."

"There!" Kitt cried.  

There was one faint blip on the screen, but it died almost instantly.

"Was that him?"  Bonnie stared at the screen, waiting.

"I believe so, but it was so fast I didn't have time to triangulate its position."

"Keep trying." Devon ordered.

Kitt kept driving, scanning for anything.

"There!"  Devon nearly jumped out of his seat. Another blip appeared, this time stronger.  "Can you get a lock on it?"

"No, just a general direction."

"That's enough for now." Bonnie forced herself to remain calm.  They were getting close.  But it was still only a homing device.  They didn't know what they would find at the end of it.

Dawson returned to the room, remaining hidden in the shadows.  He doubted Knight could see him anyway.  It was time to finish the job.  Another thirty minutes and he would be too far gone.  He had to admire Knight. He lasted longer than any other man he had ever dealt with.  He nodded to one of his assistants with the Mardi Gras mask and Michael was shocked awake again.

The blips were growing stronger, more consistent.  Kitt kept changing direction, scanning for a stronger signal.

"Thirty seven point six miles," Kitt reported, not able to keep the excitement out of his voice.

Bonnie felt the surge of power and the car sped up to one hundred fifty miles an hour on the open desert road.

"It's time to end this, Knight."  Dawson called from the darkness.

Michael moaned softly.  He had no strength left in his body.  His head pounded with every beat of his heart, pumping what little blood he had left into the ever rising bucket.  

"Tell me where Kitt took the girl, and I'll stop this.  You can rest.  Sleep all you want."

Michael barely heard Dawson through the ringing in his ears.  He felt the shock of the Stun Gun again.  How he wanted this all to end.  He couldn't hang on much longer. Where was Kitt?  He should have found him by now.

Dawson's lips were next to his ears, his voice gentle now.  Michael had to fight the desire to tell him.  Tell him everything he wanted so the pain would stop.  "Tell me, Michael."

"I'm picking up Michael's vital signs," Kitt said, a strange note to his voice.

"Kitt, what's wrong?"  Bonnie went pale.  "Kitt… is he…?"

"No.  He's alive.  But…"

"But what, Kitt?"  Devon demanded.

"We may not have time.  His blood pressure is almost non existent.  He's failing."

"No…"  Bonnie looked over at Devon, "No…" she whispered.

"Contact the local authorities, Kitt.  Tell them we have a man in a hostage situation that needs immediate medical attention.  We will advise them of the precise location when we know."

"Right away, Devon." 

Kitt pulled up to the wrought iron fence that surrounded Terrell's five acre Estate.  Bonnie and Devon watched as he taped into Terrell's security cameras.  They saw the grounds, the front and back doors inside the house. Kitt kept jumping from one camera to the next.  Terrell appeared to have every inch of the Estate covered.  The last picture that came up made Bonnie gasp in disbelief and horror.

"My God...  Michael…"  She saw Michael manacled to the chair, his chin resting on his bare chest. His chest and arms covered by small round bruises. A man stood beside him, a Stun Gun in his hand.  "…Michael…"

"What's his condition?"  Devon asked, his voice cracking.

"Extremely critical.  He's lost a great deal of blood."

"We have to get him out of there." Bonnie started to put the car in drive but Devon stopped her.  

"If they know we are here they will kill him."

"Devon, we have to get him out of there."

"Devon is right, Bonnie," Kitt said. "We have to move with caution."

"Then how…"  She heard the sound of the Stun Gun and saw Michael's body spasm. "Tell me where the girl is."  She heard the harsh demand.

"Oh my God."  Bonnie was nearly sick.  "We have to get him out of there."

"Devon, Michael won't last until help arrives."

 "I know, Kitt.  We're on our own.  Bonnie, any suggestions?"

"We have to draw their attention away somehow.  Something that will get everyone out of the house.  Then I can sneak in and bring Michael out."

"No," Devon shook his head, "You could never handle him alone.  It will take both of us to carry him out. Kitt, any idea what will lure them out? 

Kitt brought up a schematic of the building.  "Michael is here," he said, a small green dot appeared in the center of the room. "This room has three doors.  One into the main house, one into a small security room and the other leads outside.  Michael is sitting in the center of the room.  If I crash through this wall here," a small blue dot popped up, "the ceiling should remain intact long enough for us to get him out.  The doors leading to the other rooms will become unusable."

"Is there anyone in there with him now?"

"Only the man with the Stun Gun."  Kitt brought up a picture of Dawson.  "Derek Dawson, wanted for murder and torture in eleven States. A second man, Terrell I believe, is in the security room and the rest are scattered throughout the house. You will only have a matter of minutes to get Michael to safety."

"It will have to be enough, Kitt." Bonnie looked back down at the monitor, her stomach turned at the sight of Michael.  She would kill Terrell with her bare hands if she had the opportunity.

"Emergency Services are on their way.  ETA: twenty-two minutes." 

"Very well."  Devon looked over at Bonnie, "Are you ready, my dear?"

Bonnie nodded. "This will work," she said, trying to convince herself, "it has to."  
  


Devon laid his hand over hers, "Have faith, Bonnie.  We'll get Michael back."

"You know it's too bad, Michael," Dawson said, walking slowly around the chair, "this could have all been avoided, if you had simply told me in the beginning.  But you had to put yourself through all this just to end up telling me in the end."

Michael was confused, he couldn't concentrate. His mind felt like mush. Fear nudged him.  Had he said something? He couldn't have told him.  He wouldn't.  But what if he had muttered something in the few short minutes he was allowed to sleep?

"You put up one hell of a fight.  You almost won." Dawson made a show of turning off the infusion pump.  "Under normal circumstances it would take several hours for the anticoagulants to leave your system, but since you don't have several hours it is of no consequence."

What did he say?  A safe house.  That was all he knew.  Kitt would take her to a safe house.  Bonnie and Devon would meet them there.  Mrs. Terrell would be there too. But where?  He moaned softly.  After all this...What did he say? 

"I've got to hand it to you, Michael.  You've got a lot of guts.  You almost made it.  I was beginning to think that you were unbreakable. But every man has his breaking point. I knew I would find yours."

What little strength Michael had been clinging too slipped away.  He had failed.  Terrell would find the girl…

"Terrell's men are on their way to pick up the girl and your partner, Kitt, now.  If you can hang on long enough, the three of you can have a short reunion before…"

The smallest of smiles played at Michael's lips.  Dawson didn't know.  He hadn't said anything. Dawson didn't have a clue who or what Kitt was.  By now, Marty would be at a safe house and Kitt would be looking for him. He had beat Dawson.  He had won.  Not Dawson.

"I hope the girl doesn't put up too much of a fight." Dawson continued, "I'd hate to see her get hurt. Your partner could get hurt too.  You know Terrell's men, they could care less.  The only thing they want is the girl.  Your partner will just be in the way."  He reached down and gently lifted Michael's head up, "What's the best way to approach the house so no one gets hurt?"  Dawson's voice was filled with concern. "If Kitt puts up a fight the girl could be hurt.  You don't want that.  You endured all this to keep her safe.  You don't want her to get hurt now.  Should they go in through the front door or the back?  Which street is best?  What is the address, Michael?  You can keep her safe now.  It's all in your hands. What is the address?  Michael…"

Suddenly there was a tremendous crash in the darkness beyond the light.  Dawson ducked behind Michael's chair as he watched the nose of a black car screech to a halt six feet from him, the circle of light swinging wildly overhead.  He heard the sounds of the roof and walls shudder as they sagged inward, the entire room would collapse around him any minute.

Michael heard the unmistakable whine of Kitt's turbine engine. Was it real, or was he hallucinating? He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. 

Terrell heard the explosion of noise before he saw the nose of the same black car that had sped away with Marty crash through the outer wall on the monitor. He saw the door leading into the arena sag, cutting him off from the room.  He hit the alarm button for security.  His men would be there in minutes.

Bonnie climbed out of the car, shaking.  The sight of Michael made her knees nearly buckle.  She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The stench of blood filled her nostrils.  What had they done to him?  She saw the bucket sitting next to his leg, blood slowly dripping from the IV line. Her mind couldn't comprehend the horror of it.

Devon stood up slowly, his anger rising to a fever pitch.  What had this monster done to the man who was as close as any son could be?  He forced himself to remain calm.  Michael needed him level headed now.  Later, when Michael was safe he would enact the kind of revenge no one knew him capable of.

Devon took a step toward Michael and Dawson stood up.  "I believe one of you must be Kitt."  He said, regaining his composure.  "Michael told me so much about you."

"What kind of monster are you?"  Devon hissed, taking another step closer.

Dawson leaned over Michael and grabbed the IV line, "Stay back," he warned.  "If I yank this, he'll bleed out.  He'll be dead in three minutes."

"What do you want?" Bonnie asked, her voice trembling.  She couldn't keep her eyes off the blood as it slowly dripped into the bucket. So much of it.  She felt her stomach churn over. She was going to be sick.

"Tell me where the girl is and I'll let you have Knight back."

Kitt thought his circuits would explode.  Never had he felt so much hate for anyone or anything. He scanned Michael, checked and double checked his vitals…saw the blood, Michael's life force dripping from his vein. He revved the engine and only a gentle touch from Bonnie's hand made him ease off the throttle. He collected himself, forced himself to face the issues at hand. Later he would deal with Dawson. Time was running out, for Michael and for them. He had misjudged the integrity of the ceiling.  It was about to collapse. He had to do something.  

"Marty is safe with her mother." Devon said, coldly, "Terrell will never get his hands on her again."

Dawson looked down at Knight.  He had been so close.  Ten more minutes and he would have had everything.  "I hope she was worth it." He said, slowly pulling the IV line toward him.  Suddenly he screamed, arching his back, his body going into a spasm before his legs buckled and he collapsed over the chair, falling across Michael's legs, his hand upending the bucket.  He landed face down in a huge puddle of blood.

Bonnie put her hand to her mouth, trying not to be sick.  Devon was stunned.  "Kitt…?

"I turned the Stun Gun in his breast pocket to full power." Kitt said, his voice lifeless.  "He's dead." 

Devon stared at the unbelievable scene at his feet. Dawson dead, Michael strapped in the chair, lifeless.  "You did the only thing you could to save Michael, Kitt.  You did the right thing."

"I took a life."

Bonnie heard the ceiling above shudder, "We can talk about this later, this place is about to go."

Devon and Bonnie walked through the blood, there was no other way to reach Michael. Bonnie couldn't control her shaking hands as she lifted Michael's head.  She thought she saw a moment of recognition in his eyes before they rolled back in his head.

"You must hurry," Kitt continued scanning his partner.  His blood pressure was barely readable. "You can't remove the IV needles, he'll bleed out.  Clamp off the tubes."

They worked as quickly as they could, using the clamps attached to the tubing to stop the flow. 

"Can you release these manacles?" Devon asked, pulling at the metal bonds that held Michael's hands and feet to the chair.

He heard the cuffs click open and Michael sagged forward. If not for Bonnie and Devon he would have slipped to the floor. 

 "Terrell's men are converging on us as we speak." Kitt warned.

They gently dragged him over to Kitt and maneuvered him into the passenger seat.  Bonnie jumped in back, leaning over the seat to hold his head up.  Devon ran around to the driver's seat and Kitt hit reverse pulling out of the building as the ceiling finally gave way and collapsed.

Kitt sped down the driveway amid a barrage of bullets.

"How is he, Kitt?"  Bonnie asked anxiously, trying to hold back the tears. She gently brushed his hair off his face. His skin felt so cold.  His short rapid breaths scared her.  What he must have gone through.  

"Three minutes to our rendezvous with the ambulance." Was Kitt's only reply. 

Bonnie held on, whispering in Michael's ear, gently stroking his face.  Somehow she knew he was aware of her.  Devon reached his hand back to her, patting her knee. "Don't give up hope." He said softly.

Devon saw a cavalcade of police cars race passed them on their way to Terrell's house. He doubted Terrell had a chance to flee yet.  Kitt skidded to a stop next to a waiting ambulance.  Paramedics carefully lifted Michael out of the car and sped away.  Kitt followed, keeping a careful watch on his partner. Guilt was a heavy burden and it felt like it weighed a ton. He would never get past the fact that he had left Michael behind to face a man like Dawson, and in the end had taken his life.  A man's life.  The thought was reprehensible. It went against his every program. He would never be the same.

**Epilogue**

"Are you sure he won't be mad at me?"  Marty fidgeted in the front seat, watching the scenery fly by as they made their way toward a small bungalow on the beach.

"Why would he be mad?" Kitt asked.  It had been three weeks since they rescued Michael from Terrell's Estate.  The first forty eight hours had been touch and go.  Devon and Bonnie refused to leave the hospital until they were certain Michael was going to make it. At times it seemed there was little hope.  But late in the second day he started to respond and three days later he was every nurse's worst nightmare demanding to go home.  After two weeks at the Foundation, Devon rented a small bungalow on the beach for the remainder of his recovery.  Bonnie took the week off to be with him and Kitt kept a vigilant eye on him day and night.  He wondered how long it would be before things returned to the way they were.  

"Because, he was hurt because of me."  She said softly.

"Now you listen to me, young lady," Kitt said sternly, "you did nothing to hurt Michael.  Mean, evil men were responsible, not you."

"But…"

"But nothing.  Now just relax.  We will be there in fifty three point six minutes. Can you make it without a bathroom stop?"

Marty grinned, "All the way."  She laughed.  

Kitt wished he could share some of her enthusiasm. He was worried about Michael.  After he was through the worst of it, and on the road to recovery he seemed to shut down.  He never smiled anymore.  It seemed his spirit was broken. Dawson had robbed him of himself.  The likeness of Michael Knight still existed, but the real Michael Knight didn't. He hoped Marty could break through the barrier he had erected around himself.

Michael sat on the bungalow porch watching the waves break over the sea wall. It was a beautiful sight, but he was dead inside. He had watched his life leak out of his body one drop at a time.  He had felt the fear of dying. He had come ever so close to revealing everything he knew.  He saw Dawson's face everywhere. Smelled the stench of blood in his nostrils day and night.  Foundation psychiatrists told him it was normal.  He would eventually bounce back.  But he wasn't so sure.  He had never been so scared in his life.  Even Vietnam had not been as bad, and that was hell on Earth.

Bonnie set a pitcher of ice tea and two glasses on the table next to him. "A penny for your thoughts," she said, sitting down next to him.

"You'd be paying too much," he mumbled.

She sat back studying him.  His face was still too gaunt and pale.  It would take time to regain his strength back to what it was before. The livid blue bruises covering his chest and arms from the Stun Gun had begun to fade.  But it was the hollow look in his eyes that scared her the most.  She wasn't looking at the Michael Knight she knew.  The man she knew was lost somewhere. 

"Kitt has a surprise for you."  She said, sipping at the tea.

"I don't like surprises," he said blandly.

"You'll like this one.  And I was thinking, since we have the time off we should do something fun, like check out the pier, go on a few rides. You know, just have some fun in general."

"I appreciate your concern, Bonnie," Michael sighed, "but I'm really not in the mood for fun and games. In fact, all I really want is to be left alone."

"So you can sulk?"

"Excuse me?"

"Michael," Bonnie stood up, her anger rising. "I know you went through a terrible ordeal, and no one, no one, could ever know what it was like but you.  But it's over.  You're safe.  You're with the people who love you.  Don't shut us out.  Let us help."

"You can't"

"You don't know until you let us try.  And Kitt, do you know what you are doing to Kitt?  He feels so much guilt for leaving you behind he is drowning in it.  If you don't snap out of this soon there are going to be two causalities."

Michael stood up wordlessly, still favoring his broken ribs and walked back into the house. 

As Kitt pulled up to the bungalow Bonnie shook her head sadly.  "I'm afraid he may not be ready for this," she said.  

Marty jumped out of the car and headed for the beach, pulling off her shoes and socks as she went.

"What did you tell her?" Bonnie asked, watching Marty play tag with the in coming waves.

"Only that Michael had been hurt and was still feeling bad.  She thinks it's her fault."

"The victims just keep piling up.  Does she know Terrell is being officially arraigned today?"

"She knows.  But she doesn't talk much about him."

"Mrs. Terrell says she has been very quiet since she returned."  Bonnie looked back at the bungalow and saw the curtain pulled aside just a bit.  "Hey Kitt, how about we check out the pier?"

"Now?"

"I'm sure Michael won't mind looking after Marty while we're gone."

Kitt noticed the drawn curtain, "Ah, you are a very devious woman, Bonnie."

"Thank you, Kitt," Bonnie grinned, "I accept that as a compliment."  She hopped into the car and yelled back at the house, "Kitt and I will be back in a couple hours, keep an eye on Marty."

Michael watched Kitt pull away, angry at Bonnie for leaving Marty alone with him.  The last thing he needed right now was a kid hanging around.  He watched her play in the surf, never taking is eyes off her.  The specter of Dawson hovering above him, taunting him, torturing him to reveal the girl's location dimmed ever so slightly. What if he hadn't fought so hard?  What would have become of her?

He grabbed two sodas from the fridge and headed for the beach.

He still felt incredibility weak, his legs aching after just the short walk through the sand.  It was one of the things that added to his slow recovery.  He wasn't used to feeling weak and not in control. He was so afraid that he would never be the same.

He stood quietly for a long time just watching Marty.  She was lost in her own little world, darting in and out of the waves, finding shells washed up on shore.  She sorted them carefully, putting the special ones in her pocket and tossing the others back in the water.  How had this ordeal affected her?  She was so young. He hoped she would forget all the bad that had happened to her, and remember the times like this.

She turned around catching him staring at her.  "You wanna play?" she asked.  

"Maybe later.  You thirsty?"

She nodded accepting the bottle of soda and sat down waiting for him to join her.  It was a long way down with his aching ribs and stiff legs and he let out a loud sigh of relief when he was finally sitting in the soft sand.

She eyed him curiously, not afraid, but wary.  She knew he had been hurt badly, and knew it was because of her. Her mother and Kitt told her it wasn't, but she knew.  She had watched as Kitt pulled away and saw him beaten by the men at the house.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what?"  

"For making them hurt you."

Michael's heart skipped a beat and he found it hard to find the words.  She was too young to be burdened by guilt like this.  Especially guilt that was not hers to bear. He took her small hand in his and squeezed it gently. "You have nothing to be sorry for." He said softly. "What happened was not your fault.  There are bad people in the world, they are the ones to blame. You and I just got caught in the middle.  But it's over now.  You and your Mom are safe."

"That's what Kitt said."

"And you know Kitt can never tell a lie."

She smiled, "I know.  Do you want to help me build a sandcastle?"

"Why not?"  He grinned.  "I used to make some awesome sandcastles when I was your age."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Great.  I'll be right back."

She ran back to the bungalow searching for something.  Michael looked out at the ocean waves rolling onto shore.  It would be high tide soon and the beach would disappear. He wished his memories could disappear just as easily.  Marty had helped, had lifted some of the weight off.  Everything he had gone through was worth it.  Nothing would have made him act any differently.  A child was saved.  He took a deep breath.  It was time to try to move forward, past the memories and nightmares.  

"Look at that." Bonnie pointed at Michael and Marty, huddled over something in the sand. 

"It looks like you were right, Bonnie."

"He just needed the right medicine."

As they pulled up Michael slowly got to his feet, Marty helping him best she could.

"You guys are right on time." He grinned and they both stepped away reveling a likeness of Kitt in the sand.

"I don't know quite what to say," Kitt said in awe.  "I am flattered."

"It was Marty's idea."

"Yea, but Michael did most of the work."

"Then I thank you both.  Marty, would you like a ride along the beach?"

"Sure!"  She hoped into the car and Kitt slowly drove away.

Bonnie gently wrapped her arm around Michael's waist and they walked slowly back to the bungalow.  "Feel better?" she asked.

"A little," he admitted.  "But it's going to take time."

"Of course it will."  She stopped as they reached the steps and turned to see the sun just beginning to set. "I can't even imagine what you must have gone through." She said, her voice trembling. "But you survived, and you have people who love you. We'll stand by you every step of the way."

"I know you will."  He leaned down, burying his head in her mass of brown hair, "I thought about all of you, all the time. It's what got me through it.  That and knowing that Marty would never see Terrell again."

As the last rays of the sun set and the sky grew dark Michael gently guided her face towards his and kissed her softly on the lips.  "The one mistake Dawson made was not knowing how much I had to live for."

.


End file.
